How Hot Food Can Be a Danger in Your Relationship
by AxCfangirl
Summary: Athrun finds out his girlfriend is having hot food for her meal again. He tries to do something about her obsession. How will it turn out?


English is not my first language. Please bear with grammatical errors.

And for your information, my fic is based on the remastered version (but I watched the original version, too).

 **Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD.**

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 **How Hot Food Can Be a Danger in Your Relationship**

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"You are eating hot food again? You really need to lessen your consumption of spices." That was the first thing Athrun said after his girlfriend had hung up on the phone.

He had just come to her office to give his report on military affairs and witnessed her conversation. It seemed Cagalli had been talking with a kitchen staff and, not surprisingly, requested her supper include some kind of spicy salad.

She pulled a face at the familiar comment of his and moved her chair a little to face him who was standing beside her desk.

"There is nothing wrong with enjoying _good food_ ," she insisted, huffing. "You can't understand that because you always eat nutrition bars and so, forget the joy of having delicious meals."

"I'm not saying you should completely stop eating hot food. Just not as much. For your health." Then he added, "And I don't _always_ have nutrition bars, for the record."

"You do as often as I eat hot food."

"It can't be that often. Plus," he said with a scowl, "what I eat at least doesn't hurt me."

"What I eat at least lights up my days," she retorted.

"Nutrition bars aren't as bad as you think," he replied, knowing she was as unhappy about his eating habit as he was about hers. "They help improve the quality of our life. They—or at least those I have—are carefully designed and produced so that they supply us with just enough nutrients, allowing us to keep good health while enjoying convenience."

"Improving the quality of life means it makes you happy, like real food does. It's not about convenience," she argued. "Real food makes our daily life more enjoyable. Not to mention it offers a lot more variety than nutrition bars do."

"It's not like you enjoy a great variety, considering your obsession with kebabs. You have them almost every day."

She gave him a shrug. "So what? The kitchen staff makes sure I'm in nutritional balance. There would be no problem. Plus, I eat new food more often than you do."

That was actually true. She had more curiosity and interest in food, and thus, tried something new more frequently than he who preferred to stick with familiar—and safe—foods, though her choice leaned heavily toward hot food and he was sure that his choice of food was more well-balanced when he chose to have a proper meal even if it didn't include something novel.

Also, she had more opportunities than he did to attend receptions where foreign cuisine unfamiliar to her was served, which gave her a further advantage.

Still, he wasn't backing down. "But you always return to kebabs." Then she would declare they were still her favorite and the best food in the universe.

"Because kebabs are the best," she said matter-of-factly. "It's thanks to them I can power through boring meetings with those bigots without smacking their heads."

His lips twitched nearly into a smile despite himself. It was a well-known fact among those who worked closely with her that her aides prepared a kebab for snack on her desk whenever they had the feeling their boss was coming back from a meeting in a bad mood. From what he had witnessed, those kebabs were usually quite...well, red. With more chili sauce poured over than usual.

There was even what she called her special kebab which consisted of black pepper pita bread, super hot sauce, various kinds of sliced raw peppers and onions, and extra spiced meat—not one of them, but all in one—the mere thought of which made him cringe. He had once been curious and accepted her offer of a bite, and wholeheartedly regretted his foolish, reckless decision. He had vowed he wouldn't engage in such a harmful act ever again. He had no idea how anyone—any human being—could even stomach the entire piece of that dangerous thing, much less find it tasty. And it was no other than his girlfriend.

Sometimes, he wondered with seriousness whether he shouldn't talk to her doctors and forbid her to eat something so toxic for the sake of her well-being. It was a part of his responsibility, both as her boyfriend and as the one in charge of her security, to eliminate things that endangered her safety, after all. Being a Natural, she was supposed to be more vulnerable to poison than he was.

The only thing stopping him was his speculation that she probably wouldn't talk to him for a very long time if he carried the plan into effect. So he resigned himself to paying special attention to her condition and attempting to coax her into reducing her consumption of hot food, or super hot food at least, even a little. Which he couldn't say had been successful.

It eluded him how a food that appeared to do nothing but add fuel to flames could sooth her anger. Well, it might be _because_ kebabs added fuel to her fire. Maybe she just let out all her anger inflamed by the spices while eating a kebab, and then calmed down. It was Kira's theory anyway.

He himself was inclined to a theory that it was due to her quickly changing temper. She was hardly the type to hold grudge. Although she was quick to get angry, she was also quick to forgive or forget. So eating her favorite food distracted her from what she was mad at, and being happier after the meal, she would have forgotten most of her anger.

Oblivious to his musing, Cagalli continued defending her beloved food. "And my kebabs are quite rich in variety. Different kinds of meat, vegetables, and bread. Sometimes rice, different kinds too. I rarely eat a same combination in a month."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Does it make that much difference if you don't have various sauces?"

"I _do_ have various sauces."

"I don't call it various if the choice is either chili sauce or extra hot chili sauce. Or that super spicy sauce of yours." He made a face.

Not that he disliked chili sauce. He was fine with it as long as he had it occasionally, not every day, or every week. Once in a while, he ate kebabs with the sauce along with her and enjoyed it. However, the other two were on his list of the foods he should avoid.

"They're not the only sauces I eat. I have something quite different, too."

"Like what?"

"Like curry sauce."

He looked at her disbelievingly. "Are you serious?"

"What? Curry and chili are different. Don't you know that?"

"I know they are different. But not _that_ different."

"That's an insult!" She banged her desk and nearly stood up, looking genuinely offended.

"...To whom?"

"Chili and curry, of course. And the chefs."

He wasn't sure how to respond, so opted to tease her instead. "You know, pouting makes you look quite like a child."

She glared daggers at him while trying hard not to pout. It was actually a funny and cute sight and made him smile, which predictably irritated her further.

"It's such a shame you can't appreciate the wonderful harmony of spices, meat, vegetables, and bread or rice," she grumbled, "You have such childish taste in food."

"Excuse me." He raised his eyebrows. "Preferring _mild_ taste is not childish. If anything, preferring strong taste is more like a child. You need to be mature to appreciate those foods that don't give you stimulation but are good."

She opened her mouth to retort, but then, blinked like she had realized something.

"Wait. What are you doing here in the first place? I thought you took your afternoon off today."

"I was _forced_ to take it," he corrected, which she shrugged off. "I came to drop this." He raised his left hand to indicate a file in it. "After that, I'm going to leave for home—unless you need a help?" Placing the file in her hand, he glanced sideways toward the documents and books piled up on her desk.

Her expression turned disapproving. "Do you know what a day off is for?"

He lifted his shoulders defensively. "It's not like I'm going to do something meaningful at home." Except for making up for his usual lack of sleep on workdays, which was actually quite appealing. But he wouldn't get his hands on it during the day, and it was still not exactly meaningful.

She released a loud sigh. "You really don't get what it means to have a rest, huh? You are _not_ supposed to be productive. You are supposed to do whatever you need to do to recharge your batteries so that you can be at your best on a workday."

"I wonder who it was that insisted she had to work hard to make up for lost time on her day off?"

"It's different. I wasn't talking about my job, and you know that." She threw a glare at her arm. "Besides, I really need to work harder."

Knowing her dissatisfaction with her weakening muscles due to long desk work, he said consolingly, "At least your aim is still as good."

Mostly because she didn't forget to squeeze some time for a break when she visited military facilities, which she used to sneak into a shooting range and practice. Although new soldiers sent nervous glances in her direction and tried to be on their best behavior, most soldiers were familiar with this habit of hers and simply ignored her presence; some soldiers, especially older ones who had known her since her childhood, even gave her some advice or just chatted with her as if she were another soldier.

It was more difficult for her to find time for combat training and regular workout. At least not to the extent she would like.

She replied, "Yeah. But I need to be able to fight without a gun as well."

With a frown, he returned in a disapproving tone, "You don't _need_ to be able to fight. There is a reason you have many bodyguards."

"But there is still a possibility I encounter danger when I'm alone. Better safe than sorry, isn't it?"

His frown deepened. He was torn between wanting her to be capable of defending herself so that she would be more likely to survive and wanting her not to be so that it would be—even a tiny bit—easier to convince her to stay in a safe place.

He sighed at his own thought. Who was he kidding? He knew more than anyone—well, except for Kisaka probably—that she wouldn't hesitate to engage in fighting if necessary, whether she was competent enough or not. Although she had become more careful and thoughtful than the time they had met, she was still the kind of person who preferred to face up to danger rather than escape to safety. She would try to fight whether he liked it or not. Then, he would prefer her to be as prepared and competent as possible.

Discarding the wishful thinking, he offered with a resigned look, "I'll help you improve your training program. So that it'll be easier for you to train during a work break."

"Really?" Her face shone with pleasure. She rose to her feet excitedly and gave him an enthusiastic hug followed by a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks! Love you!"

Softening his face, he returned the hug. There were at least some benefits like this, which was a consolation. But he was still going to make sure—even surer than now—that her bodyguards were perfectly trained and familiar with her behavioral tendency so that they would never leave her unguarded. Which she didn't need to know, of course.

Maybe he should also give a serious thought to what Kira had said: give her a highly-functional bodyguard robot. He knew Kira had meant it as a joke, but it actually sounded like a good idea, except it would be a little problem how to convince her to keep it around. Perhaps, telling her it was a weapon, which would be partially true, instead of a mechanical bodyguard—a machine with an attacking device, a danger detector, a tracking device, and the like that could send an alarm to him once she felt the need to defend herself and lead him to her—would work.

He needed to be very creative and make it look convincing, but it seemed like an exciting challenge. And luckily, he could devote the rest of the day to this plan that would provide him with fun and benefit. After all, she was the one who had said he should do something he could enjoy on a day off, wasn't she?

As he recalled her previous words, his lips curled up. "So, Cagalli, before I leave," he said as she was settling herself in her seat again, "since I'm already off duty—after handing you that file—and you are obviously taking a little break..."

He leaned over the desk. She watched him curiously. "How about you give me a help so that I can 'recharge my batteries'?" he asked suggestively.

Getting the hint, she quirked an eyebrow. "You know my aides are just outside the door." Contradicting her words, she leaned forward with a smile so that their faces became closer.

"I also know no one's going to come inside unless you give them permission first."

"You're such a temptation," she said teasingly, closing her eyes.

"I take it as a compliment." He put a hand on the desk, avoiding a plate on it, and leaned further toward her, slowly closing his own eyes.

Right before their lips touched, however, he stopped cold. _W_ _ait._ _A_ _plate?_

Pulling away, he opened his eyes to look at the object in question. With some red sauce, bread crumbs, and small pieces of vegetables and meat, the plate looked quite like it had had a kebab on it.

Come to think of it, when he had entered the room, she had been wiping her mouth and hands as if she had just finished a meal. He had actually assumed so, but forgotten it as he heard her conversation on the phone and became eager to comment on it.

Furthermore, his keen sense of smell had been catching a scent of something spicy, which was so common when he was around her that he had automatically dismissed until now.

"Athrun?" Cagalli opened her eyes with a confused look.

"You didn't have an extra hot kebab, did you?" he asked, his eyes nervously bouncing back and forth between her and the plate.

If her meal had been a normal kebab, it would be fine. But if it had been a special kebab, then kissing her wouldn't be so pleasant. No, it would be a totally bad idea.

She gave him a blank expression which was then replaced by a mischievous smirk. "Well, what do you think?"

He stared at her curving lips that looked both inviting and dangerous, and swallowed hard, hearing her say, "So are you going to kiss me or not?"

Was he?

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 **The End**

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 **A/N** : Thank you for reading. If you have written a review of my other fics, thank you for that, too.


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